Dead Kept
A shopping cart adrift in the wind skies of angels
Hey man, he was shouting. Waving red chapped fists.
I’m a sinner now. In some areas
Started singing, his eyes glittering like the shaved moon.
Kept remembering the feeling in a way
Kept finding it hard, kept finding defeat,
wanting a way out
of our hometown.
I don’t really know
What happened.
Memorial of meth town, really reeling in the think how
Of chills and steeping in a lukewarm teacup of your death
Eerie, my brother.
A week before Thursday talking in your sleep
Now. You’re going. Now, you’re going. But he’s already gone
Now the suit, like we’re all going to a party
A celebration of painful drink
Spilling like ribbon, it is required.
Pastel gloom of chalk-faced saints and
clockwork Jesus
Panting, his body mangled, forms a cross.
His face I can’t understand
As if moaning, “you get used to it after a while.”
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